Disclaimer: No matter what I say, I don't own FFVII, but I will in the near
future. Until my corporate takeover comes to fruition, VII and all its
characters belong to Square, Inc., and all those other companies I listed
in the previous four chapters. I don't really need to keep writing this, do
I?
Well, hey! :D It's Luinia, how are all you guys? I hope you like this chapter, as it seems to have taken me absolutely forever to write it...
But first – a great, big, massive group glomp for all my reviewers! I love you guys :D
So now you may read, as I'm done rambling =)
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Nibelheim lay silent in the fading light but for the soft footfalls of a woman pacing through its dirt-packed streets. Aerith could not make up her mind, and so she had taken to wandering back and forth between Cloud's childhood home and the imposing gates of the Shinra mansion.
She didn't know why she had left Cloud and the security he represented. Vincent was hidden in shadow always, representing something unknown, something uncertain. She kept comparing the two as such, which really ended up being unfair to both in the end. Vincent's mystique provided him with an aura of something enigmatic, something dangerous. On the other hand, she knew the extent to which Cloud could be dangerous. She didn't, however, want to test his limits. The constant wandering of her thoughts, inevitably back to Vincent, gave her the dreadful feeling that she would undoubtedly test, if not surpass and break those boundaries despite her wishes.
Things would be so much easier if Cloud would be with Tifa. Aerith had no doubt that, should she have remained in her watery tomb, he would have eventually married her. Aerith feared her appearance would hurt both Tifa and Cloud exponentially. She could do so much better by them should she disappear again.
But there was still the matter of Vincent's lies. Aerith wasn't exactly sure how to address them yet, but subconsciously she need to, as proven when her feet brought her to the mansion and stopped her circuit. No matter how vainly she willed it, she couldn't walk away now; if she did, she wasn't sure she'd ever walk back. It was better that she face him now, and find out just what was going on. Nonetheless, she stood in the shadow of that mansion a long time before she'd worked up the nerve to enter the forbidding edifice.
The foyer just within the front doors was just as dark and musty as she remembered it. It took a moment's respite for her eyes to adjust to the interior lighting, and she was glad of it, for her heart had begun to pound uncomfortably in her ears. On second glance, she noticed a direct set of boot prints that disturbed the layer of dust piling on the floor. Again, a semi-thankful feeling flooded her, as she couldn't clearly remember where the stairwell was hidden. Following in Vincent's steps was easier than wandering around the mansion till she stumbled upon the false door again. The stairway on the right led her to the second landing, and she turned right once more unhesitatingly, emerald eyes followed the clear path in the dust. His steps quite suddenly got lighter, but it mattered not as she remembered this part with certain clarity.
She approached the false door, searching its surface warily for the trigger. Pale hands ran over the place she knew a slightly-indented brick rested, and when she found it, she pushed slightly inwards; a sudden click sounded as the tumblers fell into place, turning to unlock the door. The area the door slid back to reveal wasn't so much a space as a landing; the spiral staircase began almost immediately. It was precisely as she remembered it, though minus the fiends with the addition of a thick layer of dust. She couldn't imagine why she didn't see Vincent's footprints here, but it was nothing to worry over, she hoped. She hugged closely to the wall, for the spiral was rickety and narrow, and had no railing. After several dizzying revolutions, she was glad of the few normal steps at the bottom.
The hallway connected to the base of the spiral was eerie as ever, lit with a curious array of purple and blue hues. It was a basement, surely, but odder than any other. She followed the relatively straightforward path, but halted at the room off to her left. Aerith paused, her gaze sliding to the library directly ahead; she felt inexorably drawn to it. But no, no, Vincent was in the tomb to her left. Shaking off a lassitude that had settled over her when she'd considered entering the library, she confidently strode into the little room off to the left. It remained populated as ever by coffins and skeletons, as well as a choking, dank air. It was stifling. Nonetheless, Aerith scanned the small room, swiftly determining which coffin had to be Vincent's. She wondered aloud if it ever occurred to him that sleeping in a tomb might be part of the reason for his nightmares. If not the reason, then certainly a boost to their tormenting skill for pain.
She really had no idea how to capture Vincent's attention. Opening his coffin uninvited would surely warrant a death before either of them had any idea what happened in the matter; Vincent's skill and tendency towards paranoia were enough to make her think twice before trying to open the coffin on her own. With a sigh, she settled on the cold, hard stone of the floor, kneeling so as to be on a level with the coffin. She sat still for several minutes, still considering her options. If Vincent was awake, then he wasn't acknowledging her. If he was asleep.. well, if he was asleep, then he was asleep. It wasn't as if she could do anything about that. In the end, the only solution she could create was to talk to him and hope he opened the tomb.
"Vincent.. can you hear me?" Her voice was slightly hoarse as she hadn't spoken to anyone in a while; in fact, it had been two years since she'd spoken before two days ago, so really, it was impressive that she could talk at all. "Um.. Vincent, please wake up. I.. I need to talk to you."
Crimson eyes popped open, and Vincent's rose to wakefulness rapidly. He stared at the still-closed lid of his coffin, his head tilted slightly to listen to that voice.. her voice. "Yes? How can I help you, Aerith?" He wasn't sure he was ready to physically face her, knowing she'd just been to see Cloud.. knowing she'd been gone for so many hours in that spiky hothead's company. Or so he thought he knew; in actuality, she'd whiled most of her time away in confused thought, torn between Cloud's home and Vincent's.. well, coffin.
She wrung her hands together anxiously, metal bracelets clanking together to pierce the stale air of the crypt-like structure with a resounding sound. She waited a moment, seemed like hours, to see if he would open the coffin, before responding at his evident refusal to. "Vincent, I.. I talked to Cloud. He said.. he told me he had no idea you were going to resurrect me."
Vincent sighed, his lips forming a little 'oh', though not of surprise. Of course she'd asked Cloud. She was Aerith; she'd always been like that. He frowned a little as he raised both hands to push the coffin lid back, sitting up to address her properly. He owed her that, at least. "I'm truly sorry, Aerith."
She was a little, to say the least, surprised. Sorry? What had he to apologize for? For a moment, she forgot her intense dislike of the things that collect dust in forgotten, unused areas, as puzzled as she was about his response. "What are you sorry for, Vincent? I don't understand; is something the matter?" She stared quizzically up at him, confusion writ deep in those depthless eyes.
His frown just grew more intense, deepening those lines of sorrow she'd so rarely seen. The blank, emotionless expression he usually wore gave no hint as to the concerned lines etched into his visage, or the laughter lines he could, but probably didn't have. "I resurrected you of my own selfish desires, Aerith. I wanted to see you alive. But then.. then I realized you and Cloud, you love each other. I should not interfere with that; I have no desire to hurt you, or to add to my nightmares."
A similar frown tugged at the corners of her lips, pulling them down and adding to the confused expression she seemed to be unable to shake off recently. "Vincent, I don't.. I mean, Cloud, he might.. I can't.." She shook her head, unable to find the words she wanted to say to him, the gesture a physical representation of the mental shake she was giving herself now. She took a deep breath, instantly regretting it for the stale, cold air in the tomb, freezing halfway to her lungs. "I don't love Cloud, Vincent. I've been dead for two years, for all the gods' sakes. I don't know what to feel, except apparently confused." She tried for a small smile; it failed miserably in the face of the momentous conversation they were so calmly holding.
He didn't, couldn't, wouldn't look at her; only at his steel-tipped boots. Obsidian hair fell over his narrow shoulders as he nodded to show he was listening to what she said, taking a deep breath himself. He didn't mind the air so much as she did, though he regretted that she was discomfited by it. He had no response for her; what could he say? In truth, he had no response he found acceptable; he did have a few things he could say. He wouldn't put that kind of pressure on her; it would tear into his already rent soul, the very thought of putting the burden of his love on her delicate, slender shoulders. So he kept his silence, thinking it the best policy.
She stared at him for a long, long moment, willing back the tears that burned so fiercely behind emerald eyes. She would not cry in front of him.. she would not. If he didn't want to talk to her about the interlacing problems in the former AVALANCHE members' relationships, then the least she could do was not embarrass him further by crying. "Very well. I'm.. I'm sorry for disturbing you, Vincent. If you want to sleep, go ahead. I'll leave now." She forced her voice to remain as neutral as possible, running one hand anxiously back through auburn curls as she rose, just now noticing the cramps and aches kneeling on that floor had caused her.
The words he longed to say to her, they rose from the bottom of his heart, but were brutally rejected by the practical part of his brain. They wouldn't do, so he lay back in his coffin, staring up the ceiling to avoid her gaze. "Good night, Aerith."
Taking this as his dismissal, she nodded, her expression abysmal. Turning around, she swiftly exited the tomb, silent tears creating tracks in the faint, grimy layer that had settled on her from exposure to this everlasting, quiet death. She hurried from the mansion as if all seven hells chased at her heels, sending her back into the relative calm of Nibelheim. Vincent cursed himself further, cursed his soul, his heart, his weaknesses and strengths.. cursed his demons.
And somewhere not so far away, Sephiroth laughed, the maniacal sound echoing in terrifying waves.
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Whee, I finished! ^^ I don't have much to say, other than I'm sorry this took so long =) I hope you enjoyed it! Let me know if you think I'm straying, or if you have questions, or if you just want to shower me with love and praise ;D
Well, hey! :D It's Luinia, how are all you guys? I hope you like this chapter, as it seems to have taken me absolutely forever to write it...
But first – a great, big, massive group glomp for all my reviewers! I love you guys :D
So now you may read, as I'm done rambling =)
-----------
Nibelheim lay silent in the fading light but for the soft footfalls of a woman pacing through its dirt-packed streets. Aerith could not make up her mind, and so she had taken to wandering back and forth between Cloud's childhood home and the imposing gates of the Shinra mansion.
She didn't know why she had left Cloud and the security he represented. Vincent was hidden in shadow always, representing something unknown, something uncertain. She kept comparing the two as such, which really ended up being unfair to both in the end. Vincent's mystique provided him with an aura of something enigmatic, something dangerous. On the other hand, she knew the extent to which Cloud could be dangerous. She didn't, however, want to test his limits. The constant wandering of her thoughts, inevitably back to Vincent, gave her the dreadful feeling that she would undoubtedly test, if not surpass and break those boundaries despite her wishes.
Things would be so much easier if Cloud would be with Tifa. Aerith had no doubt that, should she have remained in her watery tomb, he would have eventually married her. Aerith feared her appearance would hurt both Tifa and Cloud exponentially. She could do so much better by them should she disappear again.
But there was still the matter of Vincent's lies. Aerith wasn't exactly sure how to address them yet, but subconsciously she need to, as proven when her feet brought her to the mansion and stopped her circuit. No matter how vainly she willed it, she couldn't walk away now; if she did, she wasn't sure she'd ever walk back. It was better that she face him now, and find out just what was going on. Nonetheless, she stood in the shadow of that mansion a long time before she'd worked up the nerve to enter the forbidding edifice.
The foyer just within the front doors was just as dark and musty as she remembered it. It took a moment's respite for her eyes to adjust to the interior lighting, and she was glad of it, for her heart had begun to pound uncomfortably in her ears. On second glance, she noticed a direct set of boot prints that disturbed the layer of dust piling on the floor. Again, a semi-thankful feeling flooded her, as she couldn't clearly remember where the stairwell was hidden. Following in Vincent's steps was easier than wandering around the mansion till she stumbled upon the false door again. The stairway on the right led her to the second landing, and she turned right once more unhesitatingly, emerald eyes followed the clear path in the dust. His steps quite suddenly got lighter, but it mattered not as she remembered this part with certain clarity.
She approached the false door, searching its surface warily for the trigger. Pale hands ran over the place she knew a slightly-indented brick rested, and when she found it, she pushed slightly inwards; a sudden click sounded as the tumblers fell into place, turning to unlock the door. The area the door slid back to reveal wasn't so much a space as a landing; the spiral staircase began almost immediately. It was precisely as she remembered it, though minus the fiends with the addition of a thick layer of dust. She couldn't imagine why she didn't see Vincent's footprints here, but it was nothing to worry over, she hoped. She hugged closely to the wall, for the spiral was rickety and narrow, and had no railing. After several dizzying revolutions, she was glad of the few normal steps at the bottom.
The hallway connected to the base of the spiral was eerie as ever, lit with a curious array of purple and blue hues. It was a basement, surely, but odder than any other. She followed the relatively straightforward path, but halted at the room off to her left. Aerith paused, her gaze sliding to the library directly ahead; she felt inexorably drawn to it. But no, no, Vincent was in the tomb to her left. Shaking off a lassitude that had settled over her when she'd considered entering the library, she confidently strode into the little room off to the left. It remained populated as ever by coffins and skeletons, as well as a choking, dank air. It was stifling. Nonetheless, Aerith scanned the small room, swiftly determining which coffin had to be Vincent's. She wondered aloud if it ever occurred to him that sleeping in a tomb might be part of the reason for his nightmares. If not the reason, then certainly a boost to their tormenting skill for pain.
She really had no idea how to capture Vincent's attention. Opening his coffin uninvited would surely warrant a death before either of them had any idea what happened in the matter; Vincent's skill and tendency towards paranoia were enough to make her think twice before trying to open the coffin on her own. With a sigh, she settled on the cold, hard stone of the floor, kneeling so as to be on a level with the coffin. She sat still for several minutes, still considering her options. If Vincent was awake, then he wasn't acknowledging her. If he was asleep.. well, if he was asleep, then he was asleep. It wasn't as if she could do anything about that. In the end, the only solution she could create was to talk to him and hope he opened the tomb.
"Vincent.. can you hear me?" Her voice was slightly hoarse as she hadn't spoken to anyone in a while; in fact, it had been two years since she'd spoken before two days ago, so really, it was impressive that she could talk at all. "Um.. Vincent, please wake up. I.. I need to talk to you."
Crimson eyes popped open, and Vincent's rose to wakefulness rapidly. He stared at the still-closed lid of his coffin, his head tilted slightly to listen to that voice.. her voice. "Yes? How can I help you, Aerith?" He wasn't sure he was ready to physically face her, knowing she'd just been to see Cloud.. knowing she'd been gone for so many hours in that spiky hothead's company. Or so he thought he knew; in actuality, she'd whiled most of her time away in confused thought, torn between Cloud's home and Vincent's.. well, coffin.
She wrung her hands together anxiously, metal bracelets clanking together to pierce the stale air of the crypt-like structure with a resounding sound. She waited a moment, seemed like hours, to see if he would open the coffin, before responding at his evident refusal to. "Vincent, I.. I talked to Cloud. He said.. he told me he had no idea you were going to resurrect me."
Vincent sighed, his lips forming a little 'oh', though not of surprise. Of course she'd asked Cloud. She was Aerith; she'd always been like that. He frowned a little as he raised both hands to push the coffin lid back, sitting up to address her properly. He owed her that, at least. "I'm truly sorry, Aerith."
She was a little, to say the least, surprised. Sorry? What had he to apologize for? For a moment, she forgot her intense dislike of the things that collect dust in forgotten, unused areas, as puzzled as she was about his response. "What are you sorry for, Vincent? I don't understand; is something the matter?" She stared quizzically up at him, confusion writ deep in those depthless eyes.
His frown just grew more intense, deepening those lines of sorrow she'd so rarely seen. The blank, emotionless expression he usually wore gave no hint as to the concerned lines etched into his visage, or the laughter lines he could, but probably didn't have. "I resurrected you of my own selfish desires, Aerith. I wanted to see you alive. But then.. then I realized you and Cloud, you love each other. I should not interfere with that; I have no desire to hurt you, or to add to my nightmares."
A similar frown tugged at the corners of her lips, pulling them down and adding to the confused expression she seemed to be unable to shake off recently. "Vincent, I don't.. I mean, Cloud, he might.. I can't.." She shook her head, unable to find the words she wanted to say to him, the gesture a physical representation of the mental shake she was giving herself now. She took a deep breath, instantly regretting it for the stale, cold air in the tomb, freezing halfway to her lungs. "I don't love Cloud, Vincent. I've been dead for two years, for all the gods' sakes. I don't know what to feel, except apparently confused." She tried for a small smile; it failed miserably in the face of the momentous conversation they were so calmly holding.
He didn't, couldn't, wouldn't look at her; only at his steel-tipped boots. Obsidian hair fell over his narrow shoulders as he nodded to show he was listening to what she said, taking a deep breath himself. He didn't mind the air so much as she did, though he regretted that she was discomfited by it. He had no response for her; what could he say? In truth, he had no response he found acceptable; he did have a few things he could say. He wouldn't put that kind of pressure on her; it would tear into his already rent soul, the very thought of putting the burden of his love on her delicate, slender shoulders. So he kept his silence, thinking it the best policy.
She stared at him for a long, long moment, willing back the tears that burned so fiercely behind emerald eyes. She would not cry in front of him.. she would not. If he didn't want to talk to her about the interlacing problems in the former AVALANCHE members' relationships, then the least she could do was not embarrass him further by crying. "Very well. I'm.. I'm sorry for disturbing you, Vincent. If you want to sleep, go ahead. I'll leave now." She forced her voice to remain as neutral as possible, running one hand anxiously back through auburn curls as she rose, just now noticing the cramps and aches kneeling on that floor had caused her.
The words he longed to say to her, they rose from the bottom of his heart, but were brutally rejected by the practical part of his brain. They wouldn't do, so he lay back in his coffin, staring up the ceiling to avoid her gaze. "Good night, Aerith."
Taking this as his dismissal, she nodded, her expression abysmal. Turning around, she swiftly exited the tomb, silent tears creating tracks in the faint, grimy layer that had settled on her from exposure to this everlasting, quiet death. She hurried from the mansion as if all seven hells chased at her heels, sending her back into the relative calm of Nibelheim. Vincent cursed himself further, cursed his soul, his heart, his weaknesses and strengths.. cursed his demons.
And somewhere not so far away, Sephiroth laughed, the maniacal sound echoing in terrifying waves.
-----------
Whee, I finished! ^^ I don't have much to say, other than I'm sorry this took so long =) I hope you enjoyed it! Let me know if you think I'm straying, or if you have questions, or if you just want to shower me with love and praise ;D